Stupid Crazy Love
by PeaceBaby7
Summary: This is meant to be a background story of Skipper and Hans' history in Denmark. In this humanized fan fiction, it gives you the story of a special girl of Hans' and her struggle to protect her child from Hans' fullproof evil plan. But what happens if this plan backfires when what was meant to be play affection becomes real?
1. Finding Love

**Battlefield - March 06, 2000 - 0739 hours**

"Hey! Are you okay?"

Fahlcon crouched low to avoid gunfire and approached the man on the ground hidden behind a slope clutching his shoulder. He laid his M-16 down and pulled open the ripped part of the man's shirt where the bullet had plunged through. Blood dampened his entire shoulder and there was sign of infection.

"What's your name, soldier?" Fahlcon asked.

"Hans. Hans Gruber," the man answered with a weak voice, but a just as strong Danish accent. Fahlcon swung his rifle on his back and checked the surroundings before pulling Gruber up by his good shoulder.

"Come on, there's a chopper not too far from here," Fahlcon told him. Half carrying him, he managed to get Hans to the helicopter and he was flown away from the battlefield.

**Hospital - 0843 hours**

Hans laid back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of anything but the pain in his shoulder. Luckily, the surgery was successful, and the bullet, along with all the infected tissues, was removed.

_Don't think about the pain,_ Hans told himself. _Pft, I wish. That's like saying let's not think about ponies when the pony is kicking you in the face._

Interrupting his thoughts, his nurse came for the first visit since surgery ended an hour ago.

"Good morning, Mr. Gruber. I'm Nurse Taylor. How are you feeling?" she asked beaming and coming to a stop by his bed.

What had she just said? Hans was too overwhelmed to answer. He was in a daze. She was _gorgeous_. Her hair was long, blonde, and had more waves than the Pipeline Beach in Oahu—hair that fell over her shoulders like a waterfall of sunshine. Her beautiful, extravagant blue eyes put the waters of Cancun to shame. Her smile lit up the room like—

"Mr. Gruber? Are you okay?" she asked with a look of concern, interrupting his reverie.

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry, I'm fine," Hans answered abruptly, snapping out of it.

Nurse Taylor smiled again and began checking over him. She listened to his heart, changed his bandages, and took his temperature. Hans couldn't take his eyes off of her for a single second. She was so gentle and precise. In a word, she was an _angel_. After taking notes on his chart, she returned to her place by his bed and hugged the clipboard to her chest.

"Everything appears to be normal. Is there anything you need, Mr. Gruber?" she asked.

"No. I'm fine," Hans answered softly. He discretely glanced at her left hand—no ring. Hans smiled and his eyes followed her out. The feeling going through his heart and soul now greatly outweighed any pain that he'd been feeling that morning. It was a feeling he'd never truly felt before in his entire life.

He was in love.

**Hospital - March 07, 2000 - 1208 hours**

After keeping him overnight for observations and running final tests that morning, Hans was scheduled to be released. Before he departed, however, he just had to see Nurse Taylor again to say goodbye, and have a shot at asking her out for coffee. He found her checking another patient's charts down the hall.

"Oh, hello, Nurse. Taylor," Hans greeted casually. Nurse Taylor looked up from her charts. In the times that she'd come to visit to check on him—or the times Hans rang for water just to have an excuse to talk to her—the two had become acquainted. They seemed to enjoy each other's company.

"Hello, Hans. I told you, please, call me Amanda," she replied with her million-dollar smile. Hans hadn't realized he was staring in silence until Amanda asked if something was wrong.

"Oh, nothing. Um, I must ask—"

He was interrupted when a man came from seemingly nowhere and planted a small kiss on Amanda's lips. Hans' heart sunk.

"Hey, babe. Who you talkin' to?" the man asked.

"This is Hans, the man I told you I treated yesterday. Hans, this is my boyfriend, Jim," Amanda introduced, gesturing to Jim with her hand.

Jim extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

In the time he and Amanda had spent together, she had given no indication that she was in a relationship. Hans half-heartedly accepted his hand and they shook.

"Likewise," he said slapping on a smile, though his heart had sunk so deeply into his gut it seemed to have taken his soul with it.

"I'm sorry, what were you going to ask me, Hans?" Amanda asked, realizing he'd been interrupted. Hans forced a smile.

"Never mind, I already know the answer," Hans answered glancing at Jim. "Goodbye, Amanda—Jim," he said with a nod toward both of them. He then left without another word.

**Military Base - 1305 hours**

Hans was greeted with warm smiles and pats on the back upon his return to base. Once he arrived with his unit, his commanding officer, Captain Leeland, cut his target practice short so his shoulder could heal fast and easy. After taking a few minutes to gather his thoughts, he started for mess hall.

Upon his entering, the man who had saved him on the battlefield caught his eye. He hadn't thought about him since he'd met Amanda. It occurred to him that he didn't even know his name. He decided that now was as good a time as any. After grabbing a tray of food, he approached his table, where he conversed with another soldier. When their eyes locked, the man gave him a curious look.

"Don't I know you?" he asked.

Hans sat down across the table from him.

"Yes, that's what I came over here for. You saved my life yesterday. I came to thank you," he explained.

"Oh, that's right! How's that shoulder?" he asked admiring his arm in its sling.

"Better, thanks to you. I never caught your name?" Hans inquired. The other man extended his hand across the table.

"Alexander Fahlcon. My friends call me Skipper. You're—Hans, right?" Skipper asked.

"Yes. Hans Gruber," Hans confirmed with a nod, taking Skipper's hand and shaking it. "Nice to officially meet you."

Skipper smiled.

"Likewise."

**Hospital Parking Lot - March 19, 2000 - 1034 hours**

For the past couple of weeks, Hans and Skipper had become good friends, even though Hans envied Skipper's many successes and medals he'd earned in battle. They'd discussed much about their past lives and what led them to join the military; however, Hans had left out the little detail of his life in which Amanda resided in his heart and memory. In fact, he was on his way to meet her for coffee at that very moment. Almost every morning he didn't have a mission or other engagement to attend to, he and Amanda had coffee. Hans had tried to stay away since she was already in a relationship, but he just couldn't. He loved every aspect of Amanda, right down to her adorable right-sided dimple.

When he arrived at the front of the hospital building, he saw Jim and Amanda behind a column, barely visible behind the shrub, making out. Unable to watch, he went inside and decided to wait for her by the front desk.

Much to his shock and surprise, Amanda came out of the break room with another nurse, laughing about something.

"Amanda?" Hans said bewilderedly. Wasn't she just outside with Jim? Then again, he didn't see her face, and much of what he had seen was blocked by the shrub.

"Oh, hello, Hans. Is something wrong?" she asked apprehensively. Hans opened his mouth to tell her, but found himself unable to. He just couldn't hurt her—he couldn't bring himself to cause her that kind of pain, no matter how much he wanted her. He glanced at the door just as Jim and the woman entered as if nothing happened between them and went their separate ways.

"No, I'm sorry," he answered. "I was just wondering if you were ready to go for coffee?"

Amanda smiled and looked at her watch.

"Sure. My break will be over in half an hour, so we should get going."

— § —

Once they'd returned, Amanda and Hans exchanged their goodbyes and Amanda left to start her new rounds. Before Hans turned to leave, he saw Jim going into the break room—alone. Feeling a wave of infuriation at his disloyalty to someone as perfect as Amanda, he followed him.

Just as Jim reached for a Styrofoam cup, he saw Hans enter the break room.

"Hey, Hans! What's—"

Hans cut him off by gripping his collar.

"You listen to me. I saw you this morning with that other woman. I will tell you this once, so you'd better listen good. You have found yourself the perfect woman. She's smart, funny, spontaneous, beautiful, caring, and wonderful in every way. So if you break her heart, I will break your face. Understood?" Hans threatened. Jim bobbed his head up and down spinelessly. Hans satisfactorily released his collar with a push and turned on his heel, but froze in shock.

Amanda stood in the doorway with her jaw open, glancing back and forth between the two men.

"I'm—not sure how much of that you heard," Hans said scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"I heard it all, Hans. I saw you come in here and followed out of curiosity. Did you really mean all of those things you said?" she asked, her expression softening. Jim stood straighter with his fists clenched and his teeth gritted.

"Are you really gonna listen to this guy?" he asked indignantly.

"Shut up, Jim. I had a feeling you were cheating on me. I just didn't want to see it," she told him sternly. "Did you, Hans?" she repeated stepping closer to him. Jim scoffed angrily and stormed out.

"Of course I did," Hans answered softly, gazing deep into Amanda's eyes. Amanda smiled and closed the remaining distance between them, gently taking his collar in her hands and slowly pulled his lips closer to hers until they met.

Hans stood frozen for a moment in disbelief of reality, but the electricity of her lips against his brought him away from his thoughts and he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tighter against him.

This moment was nothing like he'd ever imagined it.

It was a million times better.

**England - September 28, 2001 - 1547 hours**

"Do you, Amanda Taylor, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?" asked the Pastor.

"I do," Amanda replied without hesitation, beaming with anticipation.

The Pastor smiled and turned to Hans.

"And do you, Hans Gruber, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?"

Hans locked eyes with his bride to be.

"I do," he answered with a smile.

"Then by the powers vested in me, by God, and the city of London, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride," Pastor announced.

Hans turned to Amanda and pulled back her white veil, took her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. As the _Wedding March from A Midsummer Night's Dream_ began to play, the friends and family stood and clapped, throwing rice as the newlyweds receded back down the aisle.


	2. Appearances Can Be Deceiving

**London - April 27, 2004 - 1352 hours**

Amanda paced back and forth in the bathroom of her apartment anxiously waiting for the test to produce a result. She checked her watch about every thirty seconds in her anticipation. All the signs were there, so she had to be right in her suspicions. Finally, she looked down to her watch and her fifteen-minute wait came to an end.

Picking up the small device from the clump of toilet paper on the counter, she took a deep breath and read the result. A smile pulled at her cheeks and tears of joy rolled down the sides of her nose. She couldn't wait to tell Hans the good news—the _fantastic _news—the good, fantastic, wonderful, unbelievable news! Unfortunately, at the moment, Hans was stationed in Denmark and was scheduled to return tomorrow. The way Amanda was feeling right now made a day seem like a year.

Later that evening, around 1800, Amanda sat on the couch in her living area reading as rain pattered on the windows and thunder resounded overhead. It was very relaxing until a man burst through the front door. It took a moment for Amanda to realize it was Hans.

"Amanda! We have to go, now!" Hans exclaimed as he pushed his way to the bedroom. Amanda tossed her book on the coffee table and followed him.

"Hans! What happened?! You weren't supposed to be back from Denmark until tomorrow! Why are you covered in blood?!" Amanda asked over Hans' panic, feeling her heart quicken its pace. Hans' shirt was splotched with blood, but she didn't see any wounds, which meant that it wasn't all his, which both relieved and frightened her. His hair was in mats and tangles and his hands trembled with adrenaline as he threw clothes into a suitcase frantically.

When he wouldn't answer her, she impatiently grabbed his arm to turn him around, but in his hysterical frenzy to pack, Hans didn't realize how hard he'd pushed her away and she fell to the ground. He turned to her at the sound of the thud with wide eyes.

"Amanda! I'm sorry! I—"

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Answer me, Hans!" Amanda demanded, getting to her feet with her hands clenched in fists.

Hans took a deep, staggered breath to calm himself, even though it was ineffective. "Amanda, something has happened in Denmark. We have to disappear," he told her.

"Hans, tell me what happened or so help me I _will_ go to the police!" Amanda commanded.

"No!" Hans reacted without thinking it through, backhanding her in the face with excessive force. "You will _not_ go to the police! Do you hear me, Amanda?!"

Amanda remained on the ground where she fell when he hit her, holding her temple in her hand and fighting back tears. Her mouth hung agape as she shook her head in disbelief and pushed herself away from him in fear.

Hans' outraged expression softened into incredulity. "Amanda, I-I'm sorry, I . . ." His voice trailed off and he left the room to go out on the terrace.

Amanda put her hand to her stomach. She hoped to God that she was the only one who got hurt. She couldn't tell him now. Getting to her feet, she grabbed her purse and jacket off her dresser and looked out to make sure Hans was still on the terrace. When she confirmed it was safe, she quietly shuffled across the room and slipped through the open door.

Her feet carried her down the four flights of stairs, taking them by twos, and moved so fast through the lobby her feet seemed to barely touch the floor. Along the way, she struggled to pull on her jacket, first putting it on upside down, and then putting her right arm in the left sleeve, and finally pulling it on correctly. When she pushed through the revolving door, she looked up to see if her husband was still on the terrace.

But Hans wasn't there. Amanda turned and looked back in the lobby, where Hans had just stepped out of the elevator and saw her. Amanda took off down the sidewalk. After running to the end of the block and turning left, she turned into an alley and ducked behind a dumpster.

She took deep breaths to try to compose herself and braced herself against the dumpster to try to let her light-headedness subside. It wasn't long before she heard the pounding of Hans' footsteps along with the sound of his voice calling her name. The sound grew until she heard it just outside of the alley. Then it faded as he moved down the block.

After waiting a moment to see if he'd double back and letting her breathing return to its normal pace, she cautiously straightened herself and stepped forward into a puddle. Looking down into her reflection in the water, she let out a gasp at the sight. The place where Hans had hit her had already started to bruise—a bruise that encircled her entire right eye, hugged her temple, and touched just the top of her upper cheekbone. Amanda took her index finger and gently traced around the edge of it as it began to throb with pain. Hans had never hit her before. In fact, he'd even told her that domestic violence was something he would never tolerate under any circumstances. What could possibly have happened to change that? Whatever it was, it was obviously something heinous, most likely even illegal—and Amanda didn't want any part of it. Who had she married?

Amanda pulled her hood over her head to cover her face and peeked around the side of the buildings that made the alley. There was no sign of Hans, so Amanda continued into the sidewalk, pulling out her cell phone and taking the battery from it so Hans wouldn't be able to trace it. Instead, she found a phone booth and stepped inside, shivering in her soaked clothes. Thunder resounded hard overhead as she slipped the fifty pence coin into the slot and punched in the number with shaking fingers. After a few rings, there was an answer.

"Hey, Sherri. Yeah, it's me, Amanda. Remember that favor you owe me? I'm afraid that day has come. Look, I can't talk right now. Where can I meet you? Okay, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Amanda hung the phone back on the hook and left the booth, pulling her hood tighter around her head and making her way to Sherri's apartment seven blocks away.

— § —

Amanda knocked on the door and Sherri answered a few moments later.

"Oh my goodness! Amanda! You are soaking wet! Come in!" she said in shock with her thick Spanish accent, gently taking her by the forearm and leading her inside. Sherri was about Amanda's height with brown hair and eyes and lightly tanned skin. Sherri pulled Amanda's jacket off and gasped at the bruise on her face.

"Amanda! Your eye! Tell me what happened! No, wait, first we must get you into some dry clothes. Come," she insisted, pulling her into her bedroom.

After sorting through some drawers, she pulled out some dry clothes and a towel and laid it across the bed.

"After you change, you can set your wet clothes on the curtain rod rack in the bathroom and I will tend to them shortly," Sherri told her. Amanda forced a small smile and nodded. Sherri left her to change.

About ten minutes later, Amanda emerged from the room in the dry clothes with the towel wrapped around her head and Sherri led her to a chair she'd set next to the radiator, wrapped a blanket around her, and set her down. Then she gave her some warm soup.

"Here, let me do something about that bruise," Sherri offered. After she applied some bromelain ointment, she gave Amanda an ice pack to hold to her face. "There. After you've finished eating, we'll talk about what happened. _¿Sí?_"

Amanda nodded and gently pressed the ice pack to her eye as she spooned the soup into her mouth with her other hand. In the silence, she started to think about her last pregnancy.

It was about a year ago. She and Hans were so thrilled to hear the news. About four months in, they were able to hear the baby's heartbeat clearly. There were times when they'd just sit on the couch and Amanda would listen to the baby with her stethoscope, and Hans would lay across the couch with his head resting against her stomach. They would sit in silence all evening sometimes, listening to their unborn child's heart beating softly. But sadly, nearing the end of her second trimester, Amanda miscarried. She and Hans were devastated. Over the course of this past year, they'd tried to get pregnant again. Amanda only wished it hadn't happened now.

Once she'd finished eating, Sherri asked once again what had happened to her. Amanda sighed.

"Sherri, I don't know what's going on. I don't want to put your life in danger, nor do I want Hans to hurt you, too. It's bad enough that I'm coming to you for help. All I need is a place to stay and someone I can trust until I can figure out some answers. Once I figure out what I'm going to do, I'll leave. That shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks. Is that okay?" Amanda pleaded.

"Of course. You saved my sister's life. I owe you everything," Sherri answered. "Just tell me what you need."

— § —

That night, when Sherri retired, Amanda crept to her laptop and accessed the internet. After typing 'recent news in Denmark' into the search inquiry and hitting the Enter button, she narrowed her eyes at the first result: **GENERAL CROFT MURDERED ON DENMARK MILITARY GROUNDS**.

"Oh, Hans," Amanda whispered to herself. "What did you get yourself into?"

**Sherri's Apartment, London - May 8, 2004 - 1457 hours**

Amanda stood in front of the mirror, looking herself over. She'd bought green contact lenses and brown hair dye, so instead of a blue-eyed blonde, she was now a green-eyed brunette. Would Hans see right through it? She turned to Sherri.

"Are you sure no one will recognize me?" Amanda asked.

"Of course, _mi amiga_. I barely recognize you myself, and we've been friends since we were hired as nurses six years ago. If I can't recognize you, no one will," Sherri assured her.

"Oh, but Hans would if he got close enough. That's why I've changed my name and I'm moving to America," Amanda told her.

"_Buena_, you need to tell me what happened. This is ridiculous. This past week you've been acting really strange and you haven't told me anything. What did Hans do to make you like this?" Sherri asked sternly.

Amanda sighed. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you involved in this more than you are now, but I suppose you'll find out eventually anyway. Especially if anyone identifies Hans here in London, if someone hasn't already."

Amanda reached into her bag and pulled out the news article she'd read the night she ran away from Hans and handed it to Sherri. The main headline read:

**GENERAL CROFT MURDERED ON DENMARK MILITARY GROUNDS**

Underneath that, there were two pictures: one was of Hans with his name in bold letters beneath it, and the other was a picture of another man with the name Alexander Fahlcon. Sherri continued to read the article.

_General Croft was found dead on a military base in Copenhagen, Denmark. Sergeant Alexander Fahlcon was found at the scene of the crime and was tried and found guilty of first-degree murder and assault of a superior officer. He was sentenced to death the following morning. After being placed under high security, Sergeant Hans Gruber broke Fahlcon out and fled the country with him. It is a mystery to where they are now, and there is a 54,000 DKK ($10,000 or €7000) bounty on both of their heads._

"Oh, _miel_, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do," Sherri responded.

"No, Sherri, you've done more than enough. Thank you for being so good to me, but I need to go. I already have my fake ID and passport. Thank you again, Sherri," Amanda replied, grabbing her bag.

"You're welcome. Be careful out there, Amanda," Sherri said, giving her a hug before she headed for the door.

"I will. Goodbye, Sherri," Amanda said.

"Goodbye and good luck, Amanda," Sherri replied.

With that, Amanda was gone.

— § —

Elizabeth Shields looked out of the window of the plane as it started its departure from London. What was she doing? What would happen if he found her? What would he do to her?—or their child? Surely he wouldn't harm his own flesh and blood, right? Elizabeth wasn't sure she even knew who he was anymore.

She looked down at her stomach and gently flattened her hand against it, vowing to always protect her child, no matter the cost. This child would be raised by her, and her only. When he grew up and asked questions about his or her father, she would tell him or her that their father died honorably, saving someone in a fire, or from drowning or something. She wouldn't dare tell her child that its father was a fugitive in Denmark and possibly a murderer. She wouldn't put those kinds of thoughts in her child's mind. Yes, she would protect her child from anything and anyone, even if it cost her own life.

Although, she didn't anticipate the possibility of it costing someone else's.


	3. Found

**NYC, New York - July 17, 2012 - 1614 hours**

Throughout the past eight years, Hans had not found Elizabeth or her son. Elizabeth never remarried, nor had she ever heard anything of Hans' whereabouts. She'd kept an eye on arrested criminals in Denmark, but nothing ever showed up. Presumably, Hans had fled Europe. She had no worries, though. Chances were one in a million that Hans went into hiding in New York City, or that he'd find her there. There was only hope that she wouldn't be that one.

Elizabeth and her son, Ryan, strolled down the sidewalk, on the way back to their apartment after Ryan's last day of school.

But an uneasy feeling washed over Elizabeth as they continued their journey home. It was an indescribable feeling, and she couldn't shake it. She constantly checked their surroundings, but found nothing worth her suspicions. Perhaps she was only being paranoid. At least, that's what she told herself.

"Mom, is everything okay? You look awful pale," Ryan asked, pulling her out of her daze.

"Oh, I'm fine, darling. I just didn't eat much for lunch," Elizabeth lied to assure him, gently running her fingers through his auburn hair, much like that of his father.

When they arrived at their apartment, Elizabeth pulled out her keys from her bag and walked inside her apartment with Ryan following.

The last thing they remembered was shutting the door behind them and the smell of chloroform soaked into cotton.

— § —

Elizabeth woke slowly to the sound of a crackling fire and cool leather on the side of her face. Then reality slapped her in the face and she sat up with a start. A man stood a few feet away, pointing a pistol at her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a radio.

"She's awake," he said into it. Then he returned the radio back to his pocket.

Elizabeth looked around the room. The room had a high ceiling and a big fireplace across the room that contained a roaring fire. She was sitting on a black leather couch with an elegant coffee table about two feet in front of it.

Moments later, she heard a door open behind her, followed by footsteps that grew louder as they approached and stopped directly behind her.

"Long time, no see, Amanda."

Elizabeth cringed inside and gripped the couch with her fingernails. For eight years, she hadn't heard that particular thick Danish accent, nor had she been called Amanda.

"What are you doing, Hans?" Elizabeth asked through clenched teeth.

"Tell me, Amanda, why did you leave me like that? You never gave me a chance to explain," Hans asked without answering.

"I didn't need an explanation. At first, I didn't know what was going on. The bloodstains on your clothes and your panic haste to get out of the country frightened me. I went to a friend's place. I considered coming back, but I decided to check out the local news in Denmark. An article said that an Alexander Fahlcon was found guilty for murder, but I'm no fool, Hans. The bloodstains on your shirt were my first suspicion. Then you break this Fahlcon out of prison? I _don't_ think that's a coincidence. The way you wanted to flee the country told me everything I needed to know. Now, where's my son?" Elizabeth asked, glaring at Hans, who walked to her side.

He tried to touch her cheek, but she jerked her head back. "You're smarter than I thought, Amanda."

"_Don't_ call me that," Elizabeth hissed, letting that crack on her intelligence slide.

"Oh, yes. You go by Elizabeth, now. That made it a hell of a lot harder to find you, by the way. And it is _you_ who will be taking orders from _me_, my dear," Hans replied with an egotistical smile on his face.

"What orders? Where's Ryan?" Elizabeth asked again, fighting to hide the tears from her voice.

"Don't worry, Amanda. Our son is in a safe place at the moment—"

"_My_ son," Elizabeth corrected sternly.

Hans shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. You see, this 'Alexander Fahlcon' . . . we haven't gotten along very well since Denmark, and I am going to get my revenge on him once and for all. And you're going to help me," he explained.

Elizabeth impatiently rolled her eyes. "And why would I do _that_?"

"You know, Amanda, Ryan is a very good boy. Well-behaved, good grades. It would be a shame if anything happened to him," Hans threatened, examining his fingernails.

Elizabeth tightened her grip in the couch in her attempt to refrain from strangling Hans.

"You wouldn't _dare_," she replied through clenched teeth with rage and fury burning in her eyes.

"Try me," Hans replied, unfazed by Elizabeth's anger.

Elizabeth's jaw fell open and she scoffed incredulously. "What the hell happened to you, Hans? You used to be so caring, so loving. I knew you'd changed, but I didn't think you'd be so heartless as to threaten your own son."

"I do what I have to do to get what I want. Even if it means resorting to drastic measures," Hans replied.

Elizabeth looked at the floor, breathing deeply in attempt not to pass out. She cringed and closed her eyes. She couldn't cry in front of him. "What do you want me to do?" she asked slowly.

Hans smiled. "Follow me."

Elizabeth stood with her chin held high, trying to muster up the last bit of dignity she had left, and turned to Hans. He offered his hand to lead her out of the room, but Elizabeth eyed it as if it were a dead rat and walked around him.

Hans lead her into a dimly lit room with a large screen on the far wall.

"I have formulated this plan to the last detail, so listen carefully. I'm giving you all the information you need to know to complete your task," Hans explained, picking up a small remote. The screen came to life and a man appeared on the screen. "This is Fahlcon. He only goes by 'Skipper' now. He is the leader of the following men: Rico, demolitions expert. Private, the rookie. He's the easiest to manipulate. If all else fails, just tug on his heartstrings a bit. And this is Kowalski, he's the one you're going to go after. Skipper is too smart to trick. You'll use Kowalski to get closer to Skipper. He won't suspect as easy if the relationship between you and him is indirect," he said as he shifted through the slides with the remote. "When you get the chance, you'll plunge this through his heart," he added, pulling a dagger out of his pocket and holding it up in its sheath.

Elizabeth stepped back with her hands up. "Hans! You want me to _kill_ him?! Why can't you do it yourself?!" she exclaimed outrageously.

"Because, Amanda, I am not able to get close enough. Remember your son," Hans threatened.

Elizabeth forced back her tears as she slowly curled her fingers around the dagger and took it from Hans. "So, what am I supposed to do?" she asked slowly and firmly. Another slide appeared on the screen, this one of a building.

"This is the apartment building these men reside in. I have booked you for the apartment next to theirs. It's your job to take it from there. Understood?" Hans asked.

"Yes, but how exactly do I do that?"

"I have a taxi waiting for you outside. I have provided you with some useful supplies in your luggage. With it you will find a portfolio of what you will use as your life story," Hans instructed.

Elizabeth nodded and turned to leave, clenching the dagger in her hand and reminding herself that she had to do this to save her son.

"Oh, and Amanda," Hans called. Elizabeth merely stopped turned her head to where her ear was facing his direction, rather than her eyes. "Our son. You're doing an amazing job raising him. I could not have asked for a more suited mother."

Elizabeth fought the urge to use the dagger to stab Hans instead and left without another word.

— § —

Hans entered his bedroom and shut the door behind him, taking a deep breath. When he walked to his dresser, he took a long look at himself in the mirror.

He'd done a lot of lowdown, dirty things in his life since the Denmark incident, but this had to be the worst. Of course, he was only bluffing when it came to threatening Ryan. He was his son and he would never so much as lay a finger on him. But this would still hurt him, even if it wasn't physical. Amanda was right. He was a monster. Did he really hate Skipper more than . . .

. . . more than he loved Amanda?

It seemed crazy, even to Hans. After all of these years, he was still hopelessly in love with her. But if he loved her, why was he putting her through this?

Because it was Skipper's fault he was in this mess in the first place. He couldn't get close enough to kill him, and he'd already lost Amanda, anyway. If she really believed that he would do something unthinkable to their son, he knew then and there that nothing could be done to get Amanda to love him again. She deserved better anyway. What more did he have to lose?

Something about that argument seemed wrong, but he convinced himself to believe that it was a good enough reason. He'd tried for years to get back at Skipper for everything he'd made him lose.

Hans sat on his bed and looked at the photo of his wife on his bedside table. A few moments later, the man who'd informed him Amanda was awake entered his room.

"Sir, Ms. Taylor has left for Manhattan as requested," he informed him.

Hans nodded. "Good," he replied without looking at him.

"What about the boy, sir? He's not being easy," the man told him.

Hans smiled slightly. "He's being raised by Amanda. Of course he's not being easy," he replied with a slight smile, remembering how that was one of the things about Amanda that he fell in love with. "Tell him I'll explain everything to him soon. And give him an ice cream. Chocolate with M&M's, but only the red ones."

"May I ask why so specific, sir?"

Hans turned back to his picture of Amanda. "Just a hunch."


	4. New Neighbor

**Manhattan, New York - July 17, 2012 - 1714 hours**

"Hey, anything new?" Kowalski asked Skipper as he entered the living room, where Skipper was on the couch, working on his laptop.

"Not much, except we seem to be getting a new neighbor. Goes by 'Elizabeth Shields.' I don't trust her," Skipper explained.

"Why? You haven't even met her yet," Kowalski asked.

"Because she just moved to Manhattan and the last resident to that apartment moved out yesterday. This morning, here she is," Skipper replied.

"Skipper, you always jump to conclusions. Have you ever even _heard_ of this 'Elizabeth Shields'?" Kowalski asked.

"No, but . . ." Skipper's voice trailed as he went deep in thought.

"But what?" Kowalski urged.

"It's just—she just somehow looks familiar," Skipper finally replied, carefully examining the picture of her on his laptop while rubbing his chin.

"You're just paranoid, Skipper," Kowalski said with a roll of his eyes.

"What's all this, then?" Private asked, entering the room.

"Someone's moving into the vacant apartment next door and Skipper's paranoid," Kowalski answered.

"Oh, Skipper's always paranoid. He attacked the gardener out on the terrace last week," Private answered.

"Hey, I _still_ think he was planting something in those potted plants," Skipper said in defense.

"Yeah, _plants_," Kowalski replied, causing him and Private to crack up.

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Laugh now, but next time you go to sniff a pretty geranium, beware, because—_bam_! You're going to get a poisoned dart to the nose," he told them, pointing a stern finger.

"Sure, Skipper. Don't you think you can be a little _too_ paranoid sometimes?" Private asked.

"That's just what Manfredi and Johnson said back in 'Nam. Who knew you could be attacked by Indians in the jungle?" Skipper said to prove his point.

"Right, right. Back to this 'Elizabeth' deal. Don't you think you can just give her a chance until you've gotten to know her?" Kowalski asked impatiently.

"Not happening, Kowalski. Guilty until proven innocent," Skipper replied.

Kowalski rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Skipper. But I still think you should give her a chance," he said, turning and walking into the kitchen where Rico was chopping up sushi with his impressive knife tricks. He tossed one knife into the air and caught it behind his back while chopping up sushi with his other hand at the same time.

"You know, if you cut your finger off one of these days, don't come crying to me," Kowalski warned as he grabbed a soda from the fridge.

Rico gave him a look and brought his fist down on the side of the cutting board, propelling seven knives into the air. He juggled them a few times, in front of and behind his torso, and finally caught six of the knives between his fingers—three in each hand—and the seventh in his teeth. He then opened his arms and bowed.

Kowalski rolled his eyes and started leaving the room. "Showoff."

**1827 hours**

Elizabeth finally arrived at the apartment after an hour-long drive to look over her files. She unlocked the door with the key she was given at the check-in desk and brought her suitcases into the large room. She had no idea what was in the suitcases, which worried her. She was told not to open them until she'd arrived at the apartment. What was worse, she was told someone would be watching her, and she had no idea who or where he was. She entered the bedroom and set the suitcases on the bed.

Opening the thinnest one, she found a laptop, some headphones, and files on the men she would be infiltrating. Inside the pocket on the lid, there was an envelope. She took it out and opened it, emptying the contents into her hand. They were pictures. They had the names written on the back. The first one was 'Skipper.' The next, 'Kowalski,' then 'Rico,' and finally, 'Private.' Although, there was one more. Staring at it, her heart seemed to skip several beats as it descended into her stomach.

It was a picture of Ryan. He was sitting on the couch that she'd woken up in. But that wasn't what ticked her off. Hans was sitting next to him with his arm resting on his shoulders. Oddly, he seemed rather unfazed. A little confused and uncomfortable, but otherwise, he seemed unaware of what was going on. Hans probably sold him some lie about what he was doing. Elizabeth's eyes became wet and she looked on the back. It read: 'You know what to do.' She closed her hand tightly around the photo and balled it up. Then she hurled it at the trashcan across the room and it landed on the floor next to it. She felt as if she'd turned into a volcano about to erupt, and then explode. If Hans were there at that moment, she was unsure if she'd be able to keep her hands from cutting off his air supply. If it wouldn't have put Ryan's life at stake, she would have karate chopped his sorry ass halfway to China. If there's anyone she felt like shoving that dagger into, it was _him_.

She replaced the photos back into the envelope and into the suitcase and opened up the duffel bag. All that was inside was clothes and shoes. One pair was comfortable tennis shoes, and the other were expensive-looking heels. Then there were the boots she was wearing, where she'd keep the dagger hidden in. Finally, at the bottom, she felt something hard and pulled it out.

It was a pistol. She examined it with wide eyes. There was a note attached to it and she opened it up. It read: 'Just in case things get messy.' Elizabeth took a deep breath and stored the gun back in the bottom of the bag where she wouldn't have to see it again.

There was a number in the front pocket of the suitcase, along with a prepaid phone. The note at the bottom said, 'In case you need to reach me. Call when the job is done.' She put the phone back in the pocket.

She then went outside on the terrace for some fresh air, unable to stand the pressure inside that room, which seemed to suddenly run thin on oxygen.

Leaning against the railing and looking at the city below, she put her face in her hands to shield her horror. There were tears burning at the back of her eyes, but she held them back. She couldn't cry here. She had to be strong. If they got the slightest notion that she was up to something, who knows if she'd ever get the job done. She hadn't even thought about what would happen if they figured her out. Finally, she picked her face up and crossed her arms against the railing, listening to the sounds of the streetcars, sirens, and the wind.

What would happen if she failed? What would happen to Ryan? She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. She looked up at the sky. Wherever he was, her only hope that he was okay—unharmed. She felt something then, something she'd never felt before, something deep in her heart. It was indescribable. It wasn't tight or loose. Nor was it empty or full. She could only describe it as a longing. A longing for her son, as if he was speaking to her at that moment and she couldn't hear it. As if he was there and she couldn't see him. Elizabeth knew that whatever she had to do to save her son, she was going to do it.

There was a sound to her left and she found Private standing beside her in the flesh. He seemed to look a little different from his picture, at least to Elizabeth.

"Oh, sorry to bother you. I'm Private, your neighbor. Is everything all right, then? You looked kind of upset," he said sweetly in a British accent. She hadn't heard an accent like that since she left London eight years ago. She forced a smile.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. Long drive here, you know?" Elizabeth answered. The answer sounded a bit amateur, but what else was she supposed to say? _Hi, I'm Elizabeth Shields. I came all the way here to kill your friend to save my son, so forgive me for being a downer._ That sounded like a good idea.

"Yes, I've had those long drives before. So, where are you from? That is, if you don't mind my asking," Private inquired. He leaned against the railing next to her, waiting for an answer. Elizabeth recalled the files she'd looked through on the drive there.

"New Jersey. I came looking for work. I just applied at the diner downstairs. I figured I could make a few bucks while I'm looking," Elizabeth explained.

"That's nice. So what do you do?" Private called.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes inside. What was this? Twenty questions? Kids.

"I'm an architect," Elizabeth answered.

At least she didn't have to lie about that. She actually was a part-time architect before any of this had started.

"Wow! That's amazing! You must get paid an awful lot!" Private exclaimed.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Elizabeth said with a fake laugh. It wasn't that she was mad at the kid for asking so many questions, it was just difficult to be friendly to a guy whose heart was about to get broken because someone shoved a dagger through his friend's heart.

"Cool! Well, I don't want to take up too much of your time. I should get back in to my friends. I'll see you around, then?"

_You have no idea,_ Elizabeth thought.

"Of course," she said as she continued to smile until he left her. Finally, she turned and went back into her apartment. She didn't want to risk meeting more than one of those guys in the same hour. It was already hard enough on her.

**1831 hours**

"Where's my mom? I want to see her!" Ryan demanded when Hans entered his room.

Hans took a deep breath and shut the door behind him. "I know you do, Ryan. But I'm afraid your mother won't be back for a few days," he told him.

"Why? What is she doing? Why can't I go with her?" he asked.

Hans stepped toward him and braced his hands on Ryan's shoulders. "Your mother is a very good woman. She just has some grown-up things she has to take care of before she comes and takes you home. One day you'll understand," he explained sympathetically.

"But how long is it going to take? She promised me we'd go to the batting cages on Sunday," Ryan said in disappointment. Hans' face fell and he sighed.

"If your mother doesn't come back by Sunday, I could take you to the batting cages. In fact, we'll do whatever you want. How's that sound?" he suggested.

Ryan awkwardly shifted his weight. "Mom said I shouldn't trust strangers," he told him.

Hans smiled and knelt. "Your mother's a smart woman. But she and I are old friends. I don't think she would mind me giving you a good time," he assured him.

Ryan smiled. "I guess it'd be okay, if mom really doesn't mind," he replied.

Hans pushed some hair out of his face. "Fantastic."

**1854 hours**

"Hey, guys!" Private said as he approached the team with a smile. "Guess what?"

"I don't do guessing games," Skipper answered nonchalantly.

"Fine. I just met our new neighbor!" Private announced excitedly.

"You did _what_?" Skipper asked, crossing his arms.

"What? I saw her out on the terrace and went to say hello! There's nothing wrong with that!" Private protested.

"Private, you know you're not supposed to just go talking to complete strangers unsupervised. I told you I don't trust her," Skipper argued.

"And what do you think she would've done to me?" Private challenged.

"Anything's possible, Private. What did you two talk about?" Skipper asked.

"Nothing much. I told her we were the neighbors and, um, she told me she's looking for a position in architecture. That's about it," Private answered.

"Well, Private, next time don't go talking to strangers without backup. Understood?" Skipper ordered.

Private sighed. "Affirmative. But she seemed really nice," he said.

"Yeah, and your key word is right there: seem. Remember everything isn't always as it seems," Skipper reminded him.

"Yes, sir," Private replied, sitting on the couch.

Kowalski sat next to him. "So what'd she look like?" he asked.

"She has brown hair that she wears up, green eyes, and is just shorter than you by about four or five inches. She's really nice, Kowalski. I think we all might become good friends if she plans on staying for a while," Private said innocently.

Kowalski nodded. "Yeah, maybe. Just be careful. You never know who some people really are."


	5. Mind Tango

**Manhattan, New York - July 18, 2012**

After twenty-seven hours of labor, Ryan was born. The second Elizabeth heard the beautiful sound of his crying, her heart seemed to stop. She watched as the doctor wrapped her newborn son in a soft blue blanket, coming to her side. But instead of letting Elizabeth hold her newborn, he pulled down his face mask. Elizabeth tried to gasp, but ended up choking on her own oxygen as her eyes grew wide at the sight of Hans holding her beautiful child, grinning like a mad man.

"You want him? You know what you have to do," he said before he started to leave the room with a laugh. Ryan began crying, and Elizabeth was powerless to stop him, as she was numb from the waist down.

"No! Hans! Give him to me! You can't do this! Hans!"

Elizabeth sat up in her bed with a start. She was hyperventilating and had broken out in a cold sweat. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks and wiped them away with her palms. The clock on her bedside table read almost four in the morning.

After her experience with the Sandman, Elizabeth had no desire to go back to sleep. Instead, she showered and dressed. When she went back into the bathroom to brush her hair, she ended up staring at the woman in the fog-covered mirror. She questioned if she was really looking at herself. The tired, bloodshot, tear-stained, and worried eyes were unrecognizable. She thought about the dagger in her boot, pressed against her leg, and what it was meant to do.

Was she really going to do this? Could she really bring herself to _murder_? Another image flashed through her mind. She was standing there, dagger in hand, staring at her perfect opportunity to complete her task, but was unable to do it. She just stood there in hesitation. What if that was how things were really going to turn out? What would happen if she ended up hesitating?

After brushing her hair back and fixing it into a bun, she pulled the dagger from her boot and out of its sheath. She ran her middle finger along its razor-sharp edge. The blade was only about six inches long and caught the light glowing from the light in the bathroom, glimmering into her eyes. Elizabeth turned back to the woman in the mirror, imagining she was Skipper and held the dagger in a threatening position at him. That woman in the mirror stared back at Elizabeth with her center of gravity low and murder in her eyes, threatening to stab her with a dagger.

The two women then stared at each other in disbelief when they realized they were the same woman.

**0614 hours**

Kowalski was in the downstairs diner, looking over some figures with a cup of coffee. He always went down to the diner at this time because it was quiet since there weren't many people that went there so early in the morning. Aside from a couple of customers at the opposite side of the diner, that is. A waitress came by his table with a coffee pot and just as Kowalski started to punch in a number into the calculator, the waitress answered the figure for him.

"37.6841 cubic centimeters."

Kowalski looked up. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but notice your work. The answer to your figure is 37.6841 cubic centimeters," the waitress answered.

"You sure have the math down quickly, don't you?" Kowalski asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, I was a nurse eight years ago before I went into architecture, so I'm pretty good with figures," she said with a smile.

Kowalski nodded and looked at her nametag. "Elizabeth Shields? You wouldn't happen to live in apartment 48D, would you?"

"Yes, how'd you know?" Elizabeth asked with a curious smile.

"Private told me he met you. I'm one of his—friends," he told her, unsure of what to call his and Private's relationship to a citizen. "Name's Kowalski."

Elizabeth held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Kowalski. I remember meeting Private. Sweet boy. So, what are you working on?" she asked.

Kowalski awkwardly cleared his throat and looked down at his papers, trying to cover some of them up. "Oh, nothing. It's stupid," he answered.

"Oh, come now. Tell me!" Elizabeth playfully urged. The more she played this innocent act, the more guilty she felt.

Kowalski laughed nervously. "It's—just something I'm making is all," he answered.

"Making? So, like an invention?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I—guess you could call it that," Kowalski answered. Talking to citizens about his hobby wasn't something he did very often, and for good reason.

"Fascinating. So, you're an inventor?"

"Sort of, but they never work," Kowalski told her disappointedly.

"So? You still try. That's more than most people do. I admire your moxie. One day you'll make something great," Elizabeth encouraged with a reassuring nudge to his shoulder.

Kowalski coyly glanced up. "Thanks."

Elizabeth nodded. "More coffee?" she offered.

"Please," Kowalski accepted.

Elizabeth filled his cup and turned to the customers across the diner. Kowalski watched her leave.

**0931 hours**

Kowalski entered the apartment with his heart soaring. "Hey, guys!" he called.

"Kowalski, what took you so long? You've been gone for over three hours. I was about to file a missing nerd's report," Skipper said with a roll of his eyes.

"Sorry, Skipper. I just lost time of track—I mean track of time," Kowalski said as he shifted his weight from side to side and fidgeting with his fingers.

Skipper cocked an eyebrow. "Kowalski, are you all right?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm fine, why?" Kowalski answered as he leaned against the wall and drummed his fingers against it.

Skipper exchanged a glance with Rico.

"Kowalski, how much coffee did you have this morning?" Skipper asked, stepping closer and examining Kowalski's eyes.

"Oh, not much. Four, five, maybe around eleven cups. Want some? I do!" Kowalski said as he retreated back toward the door, but Skipper grabbed his arm.

"Oh, no. You're not going to drink any more coffee for the day. Or the week. Back to what made you so preoccupied this morning. You shouldn't have been down there for more than maybe half an hour to an hour. What were you doing so intently that you lost track of time? I mean, besides getting wired," Skipper asked.

Kowalski suddenly stopped drumming the wall and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I—"

"You met Elizabeth, didn't you?" Private piped up cheerfully. "She told me she applied at the diner to make a few bucks while looking for a job! Am I right, Kowalski?"

Kowalski looked nervously to the floor. "Well—"

"Kowalski, did you meet Elizabeth?" Skipper asked with a skeptical look. Kowalski cleared his throat.

"Yes," he answered.

"Isn't she nice, Kowalski?" Private asked sweetly.

Skipper refused to be convinced. "What did you two talk about for so long?" he asked sternly.

"Just some random things here and there. She spent most of her time serving other customers. Honestly, I don't see anything wrong with her. She seems legit to me," Kowalski admitted.

"Oh, Kowalski! Not you, too! You _barely_ know her!" Skipper argued.

"Neither do you!" Kowalski negated.

Skipper sighed and wiped his hand over his face. "Fine, Kowalski. I'll make you a deal. As long as you don't get too personal with her and you're in public with her when you see her, talk all you want. Capisce?"

Kowalski rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother," he muttered inaudibly under his breath.

"What was that?" Skipper snapped.

Kowalski cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Yes, sir."

"That's what I thought. Now, you go off and finish your whatchama-whosadingit-invention-thing. Rico, get the fire extinguisher ready for when it explodes. Private, look concerned," Skipper ordered.

"Aye, sir!" Private said before he contracted on the couch and started chewing his nails.

Kowalski gave another impatient eye-roll and went into his lab.

**2119 hours**

"Hey, guys, have you seen my calculator?" Kowalski asked, coming out of his lab. "I can't find it anywhere."

"Perhaps you left it at the diner this morning," Private suggested.

"Good idea, I hope it's still there. It took me hours to make," Kowalski said, making his way for the door.

Once he'd arrived at the diner, he stopped at the sight of Elizabeth, wondering why she was still there. She must have worked a triple shift on her first day, which was odd. Perhaps she needed the money. She had her back turned to him as she cleaned off a table while swaying to the radio. The diner was empty now, since it was meant to be closed twenty minutes ago. It appeared Elizabeth was the only one there. Kowalski cleared his throat to get her attention.

She turned around with a start. "Oh, hello, Kowalski. I suppose you're back for your calculator?" she asked, pulling it out of the pocket of her apron.

"Yes, thank you," Kowalski replied, accepting it from her and putting it in his shirt pocket. "What are you still doing here?"

"One of the other waitresses had a family emergency and asked me to lock up for her. I was planning on dropping by the calculator when I returned to my room, by the way," Elizabeth answered.

"Oh, I see. Thanks again," Kowalski replied.

"You're welcome. See you later," Elizabeth said with a smile.

Kowalski nodded and turned to leave, but stopped short when he heard the radio volume turn up. He turned back around to see Elizabeth moving to the music as she cleaned off another table.

"I love the tango," Kowalski said nonchalantly, recognizing the beat.

"Do you?" Elizabeth asked, glancing back at him with a smile.

Kowalski turned back and approached her from behind. "Yeah," he answered.

"I too love the tango. Never learned the dance, though. Never had the time," Elizabeth explained.

Kowalski leaned smoothly against the table next to her. "I could teach you," he said suavely.

Elizabeth turned her head to look at him but quickly looked away in embarrassment.

"Oh, no, no. I appreciate the thought, but I just can't. I've never danced anything but a waltz. Even still, I had two left feet," she told him. Although, she regretted it, since it was Hans whom she'd waltzed with.

Kowalski took her rag and laid it on the table. Then he took Elizabeth by the hands and led her to the center of the diner.

"If I can invent, you can dance," he said.

Just at the heat of the song, Kowalski tugged her close, causing Elizabeth to laugh.

Kowalski then led her in a series of dips and twirls across the diner. He held a firm grip on her waist and she, his shoulder as they moved with one another as if they were the only two people in the world. Elizabeth looked down at her feet in fear that she'd step on Kowalski's, but he lifted her chin with a smile.

The song slowed into a series of climactic trills and Kowalski fit his hand in the bend of her knee and held her leg to his side as he slowly brought her into a low dip. He and Elizabeth looked deep into each other's eyes as their lips hovered barely an inch apart. Kowalski smiled broadly and pulled her upright when the song picked back up for the finale.

Finally, the song came to a dramatic end, and Kowalski gave her a twirl and once again caught her leg at his side. The two waited a moment as they held each other so close, a sheet of paper couldn't fit between them, staring into each other's eyes as they caught their breath from the adrenaline of the moment's intensity. Kowalski glanced from her lips and her eyes, and she, his. Slowly, Kowalski started to close the distance, and Elizabeth nearly let him before she realized what she was doing.

She braced her hands on his chest below the collarbone to keep him from continuing with the moment.

"I should—probably lock up, now," Elizabeth said quietly with her eyes still locked on his lips.

Kowalski nodded with somewhat of a disappointed smile. "I'll—catch you later?"

"Sure. Catch you later, Kowalski," Elizabeth replied. After a moment of silence, she raised her eyebrows. "May I have my leg back?"

Kowalski's eyes widened in realization and he released her leg and backed away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" He ran into a chair and straightened it as he moved past the table. "I didn't mean to—well, you know, heh!" he said as he scratched his neck and foolishly smiled.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile back. "It's fine, Kowalski. I'll see you tomorrow," she said, rubbing her arm bashfully.

"Yeah, I'll see you to—" Kowalski then backed into the door. "—tomorrow. Heh, who put that there?" he asked with a nervous laugh. Without waiting for a response, he ducked into the hallway that led to the elevators.

Elizabeth watched the open doorway for a moment longer, grinning as if it was going out of style. Kowalski was so amazing. And handsome, too. And strong. And funny, and sweet, and kind . . .

Elizabeth's face fell into distress when the dagger in her boot seemed to press deeper into her skin, as if sternly reminding her that she was digging herself into a hole that she really needed to get out of. Tears began to well up in her eyes. She'd only felt this way once before.

She was falling in love.


	6. Falling Hard

**Apartment 50D - July 19, 2012 - 0624 hours**

Kowalski walked into the kitchen with a yawn. "Morning, guys."

"Well, don't you look rested," Skipper observed sarcastically.

"Sorry, Skipper. I just didn't sleep very well last night," Kowalski explained.

"Why not?" Private asked innocently.

"I just tossed and turned a lot. I couldn't stop thinking," Kowalski answered, running his fingers through his bad case of bedhead.

"About what?" Rico asked.

Kowalski stopped with his hand halfway through his hair, catching each of the others' eyes as he tried to find the words to say. He couldn't tell them the truth. "The—invention I'm working on," he spat out.

"Well, Kowalski, there's a time and place for that. Try to forget about all of that when you're sleeping. I need my team sharp. Here, have some coffee," Skipper ordered, pushing a cup across the table toward him.

Kowalski accepted the cup. He also accepted another. He accepted another until he'd had his sixth cup.

— § —

There he was. She couldn't wait any longer. She had to get this done now. She couldn't take waiting. He just stood there on the terrace with his back to her. It was so simple. Rico was in the kitchen listening to a symphony of explosives while practicing knife tricks on a defenseless fruit cocktail, Private was watching the Lunacorns in his room, and Kowalski was in his lab working on something with the door shut. She had been invited over by him to watch and Skipper had let her in. Elizabeth saw him going out onto the terrace after he'd permitted her to enter.

All she had to do was sneak up behind him, slit his throat, hop over onto her terrace, grab her stuff and ditch. No one would even know. Until they found the blood trailing into her abandoned apartment, that is. But she'd be long gone by then.

Elizabeth made her decision. She double-checked her surroundings and pulled the dagger from her boot when she confirmed she was still in the clear. She placed her feet quietly in front of each other until she was standing behind him.

Then she blinked and he was gone, with her son in his place, facing her with a confused expression.

"Mom, did you do it?" he asked her.

Elizabeth blinked a couple of times to try to understand what had just happened and shook her head. "Do what?"

Ryan pointed to the end of the terrace and Elizabeth followed his finger. Skipper lay there with blood pooling under him, dead. Elizabeth looked at the dagger in her hand, which was covered with a sleek red substance.

"Ryan, I—"

"But why?" Ryan asked, stepping away from her.

"I—it's just that—how did—?"

Elizabeth tried stepping closer, but Ryan backed away.

"No! Get away from me!" he cried in fear.

Elizabeth felt tears sting her eyes. "Ryan, this isn't what it looks like!" she protested uselessly. Ryan shook his head and pushed past her, running for the door. "Ryan! Please, don't leave me!"

Elizabeth woke with a start when she heard a thump. When she wiped the tears from her eyes and sat herself up, she realized she'd fallen out of bed. Everything was getting harder on her. It was hard to handle this kind of pressure. Was that how Ryan was really going to see her? Did he even know what's going on in the first place?

She pulled the phone out of her suitcase and dialed the number. She had to hear Ryan's voice to know he was okay.

"_Yes?"_

"I want to speak to Ryan. I need to know he's okay," Elizabeth demanded.

"_I'm afraid you can't, Amanda. The boy is fine,"_ Hans answered.

"Hans, I have to hear his voice. Please," Elizabeth pleaded.

"_That isn't part of the deal. Finish the job and you can have the boy,"_ Hans told her.

"But—"

"_Amanda, are you sure you really want to try my patience? Ryan can't even come to the phone at the moment anyway,"_ Hans persisted.

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked impatiently.

"_Nothing to be of your concern. Call back when you've done the job,"_ Hans said. The line went dead.

Elizabeth stuffed the phone back into the suitcase in frustration and looked at the clock, which told her it was about a quarter till eight. At least she'd gotten a little more sleep than the previous night. After showering, dressing, and fixing her hair, she made her way for her shift in the diner.

**1159 hours**

Kowalski was about to step out on the terrace for some air and stopped in his tracks when he saw Elizabeth already standing out there, in her apron. With a smile, he took a deep breath and stepped outside, leaning against the railing next to her.

"Hey. I take it you're on break?" he asked with a warm smile.

"Yeah, I am. Hello, Kowalski," Elizabeth replied, returning the smile.

"I was wondering, um, would you like to—go for lunch or something?" he asked while trying to mask his growing nervousness.

"I'd like that," Elizabeth accepted. How could she refuse?

**1224 hours**

"Hey, have either of you seen Kowalski?" Skipper asked, coming into the living room.

Private paused the _Lunacorns_. "Haven't seen him since about half an hour ago. He went out on the terrace and came back saying he was going downstairs for lunch," he answered.

"Yup," Rico concurred without looking up from his latest issue of _KABOOM_ magazine.

"Lunch? Why did he go downstairs for lunch?" Skipper inquired.

"I don't know. Maybe he liked the selection," Private replied.

"Oh, I'll give him a selection. He can get his soldier-y tail feathers up here or get fish-slapped," Skipper replied as he stormed out of the apartment.

Meanwhile, Kowalski and Elizabeth were laughing over a story Kowalski was telling.

"And then after we were put through all _that_, we accidentally left Private at the toy factory!" Kowalski said between laughs. They both cracked up.

"That poor boy!" Elizabeth said between laughs.

"Hello, Kowalski."

Kowalski turned around with a start. "Oh . . . hello, Skipper."

"And what are we talking about?" Skipper asked casually.

"Oh, not much," Kowalski answered uneasily.

"Well, it sure sounds like a whole lot of 'not much.' Come on, I like a good laugh," Skipper urged.

"We were just talking about the time we left Private at the toy factory. Wasn't that—funny?" Kowalski answered with an awkward laugh.

"Oh, that _is_ funny. You know what else is funny? You coming down here after I deliberately told you not to," Skipper said, crossing his arms.

"Right, it's just that—"

"Are you coming or not?"

Kowalski looked to Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I've got to go."

"It's fine, Kowalski. Catch you later," Elizabeth replied understandingly.

Once Skipper and Kowalski arrived back at the apartment, Skipper pulled Kowalski into his lab and slapped him before he could say anything.

"Are you crazy?! I told you not to get personal with her! You know I don't trust her!"

"Skipper, I've talked to her! You haven't! She's harmless!" Kowalski protested.

"Kowalski, did you see the way she looked at me when she saw me? It was as if she were trying to stare me into dust! She was clenching her napkin so tight her knuckles turned white! But, no, you didn't notice that because you're too naïve to know any better!"

"Naïve? _Naïve_?! The only one who's 'naïve' is you! You know nothing about Elizabeth! She's one of the nicest women I've ever met!" Kowalski argued.

"Kowalski, if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're starting to develop feelings for this woman," Skipper said, folding his arms over his chest.

Kowalski opened his mouth to respond, but ended up standing there with his jaw hanging open in silence. After a moment, he brushed past Skipper and left the lab and out to the terrace.

Skipper remained in the lab, thinking about what had just happened. He sighed.

_Maybe I should give her a chance,_ he thought. As much as his gut was telling him not to, he left the apartment and went back downstairs.

Elizabeth had started waiting tables again and was serving customers coffee just as Skipper approached her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him, as she hadn't expected him to return.

"Oh, Skipper, I—" she started, but Skipper cut her off.

"No, don't say anything. Look, I was rude before. I just—have some trust issues with people I haven't met yet. I came down to tell you," he took a deep breath, "that I'm sorry. I just care about my team. And I was wondering if you'd—like to come to our place for dinner tonight? I think Kowalski would enjoy your company," he offered.

Elizabeth's heart pounded out of her chest and she nodded understandingly. She was getting to him. Clearing her throat, she responded.

"Sure. I'd like that," she said with a nod of her head.

Skipper nodded. "I'll see you at 1900, then," he told her with a forced smile. After he nodded his goodbye, he turned his back and returned to the apartment and out onto the terrace, where Kowalski remained smoldering with anger as he leaned over the railing.

Skipper took a deep breath. "I just talked to Elizabeth. I'm sorry, Kowalski. All right? I'll give her a chance. I invited her for dinner with us tonight. I hope you're right about her, Kowalski," he told him. After a moment of silence, he turned and started to go back inside, but Kowalski's voice stopped him.

"Skipper?"

"Yeah, Kowalski," Skipper answered, turning back to him.

"Thanks," Kowalski said with a forgiving smile.

Skipper smiled back, nodded, and went back inside.

**1904 hours**

Kowalski answered the door upon hearing a knock from the other side. "Hi, Marlene. Please come in," he said, moving out of the way for her.

They'd decided to invite Marlene over as well to relieve some of the awkwardness stemming from dining with four men. At least Marlene knew the team and could set Elizabeth's nerves at ease.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth showed up. Kowalski led her in and introduced her to everyone, and they all sat down to eat.

After a wonderful dinner, everyone had become acquainted with one another and Elizabeth got to know everyone better. While the rest of the team and Marlene were distracted with conversation, Elizabeth and Kowalski slipped out onto the terrace.

"It's a beautiful night," Elizabeth said softly.

"Yeah, it is," Kowalski replied, although he was too drawn away by Elizabeth's beauty to notice the few stars in the sky.

"I had fun tonight," Elizabeth said, turning to him.

"I did too. I'm glad you came," Kowalski told her.

"I am too. I'm also glad Skipper wasn't too harsh on you. I know it's probably hard for him to accept me considering I'm new here and all. I can understand his distrust in me," Elizabeth told him, looking down into her hands.

"I suppose. But I'm sure he'll warm up to you," Kowalski encouraged.

Elizabeth looked down out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah, I'm sure," she said under her breath. She couldn't help but think about how hurt Kowalski would be if she went through with her task at hand. Her thoughts were interrupted when Kowalski pushed a tuft of hair out of her eyes and rested his hand on her cheek.

As the intensity of the moment grew, the distance between Kowalski and Elizabeth shrunk as much. They looked from each other's eyes to their lips and finally, their lips met. There was nothing but that moment. Nothing else existed. Elizabeth slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around Kowalski's neck. Kowalski wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Neither of them even realized that Skipper appeared at the door behind them and watched them for a moment. After a smile and a sigh, he left them be and returned to the others.

Finally, Kowalski and Elizabeth slowly pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes, drawn by the desire that kindled there. Kowalski then pulled her into another kiss and pushed her into the railing.

Elizabeth sighed against Kowalski's lips and pushed his hair between her fingers. Kowalski pushed his fingertips into her waist and caressed her hip. Without thinking—as if the moment would let her—Elizabeth brought up her leg and hugged Kowalski's hip with it. It wasn't until Kowalski started to run his hand down her leg did she realize he was about to find the dagger in her boot.

Elizabeth put a hand on Kowalski's chest and gently—and reluctantly—pulled away from him while the other hand stopped Kowalski's from moving any further down her leg.

"We should—go inside before they realize how long we've been gone," she suggested with a nervous smile.

"Of course," Kowalski agreed as a smile twitched at his lips.

With a nervous laugh, Kowalski let her go and rested his arm around her shoulders as they went back inside.

"Thanks for a wonderful time, everyone. But I really should be getting back to my apartment," Elizabeth announced.

"All right. Goodbye, Elizabeth," Kowalski said.

"Bye, Kowalski. Gentlemen, Marlene," Elizabeth said with a nod to the boys and Marlene as she left.

**2214 hours**

Elizabeth stared at the woman in the mirror. She felt like shoving the dagger through her own heart just for her stupidity. It was bad enough that she had to murder someone, but she was falling for the man whom obviously trusted her. She splashed water into her face.

What was she supposed to do, now? How was she supposed to kill Skipper, get her son back, and not hurt Kowalski? She wasn't heartless. Even if Kowalski never found out she'd killed Skipper, she couldn't exactly explain the sudden appearance of an eight-year-old son over the course of one night. If she ran away, he'd still be hurt. Elizabeth started to wonder what she'd ever done to deserve this kind of torture.


	7. Life or Death

**Central Park - July 20, 2012 - 1628 hours**

Marlene had invited Elizabeth for a walk through Central Park and Elizabeth accepted for the sake of not being rude.

"So, what was it like? Being a nurse for all those soldiers must've been hard work," Marlene asked.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, it was brutal at times. Especially when I had to break the news to the family when a loved one had passed on," she answered.

"I can imagine. So, you've never been married, then?" Marlene asked with a smile.

Elizabeth eyed her sideways. "Nope. Always been single," she lied.

"Well, _that's_ hard to believe. You seem like such a nice woman. I'm surprised no one's snatched you up, yet!" Marlene said playfully.

"I guess I just haven't found that special someone," Elizabeth replied bashfully.

"What about Kowalski? What's going on between you two? I know you two went out on the terrace last night," Marlene cooed in a singsong voice.

"Well . . ." Elizabeth started awkwardly with heat rushing into her cheeks.

"Did he—_kiss_ you?" Marlene asked, emphasizing the word 'kiss' by nudging her with her elbow. Elizabeth didn't meet her eye. "He did, didn't he?!" Marlene urged excitedly.

Elizabeth felt as if she'd turned into a tomato. Without answering, she playfully pushed Marlene's shoulder and she laughed.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so happy for you two! Kowalski's a really nice guy," Marlene said.

Elizabeth looked down. "I know," she replied with guilt twinging in her chest. She turned her head away from Marlene and saw a car parked on the side of the road about a hundred feet away. A man in casual clothing and sunglasses was leaning against it and seemed to be watching them.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth hadn't realized she'd stopped walking and looked at Marlene with a start.

"Is something wrong?" Marlene asked, expressing concern.

"No! I mean—I remembered that I left my jacket at the diner. I'm sorry," Elizabeth blurted.

Marlene eyed her suspiciously. "Are you _sure_ there isn't anything wrong? You know you can tell me," she asked again.

"I'm fine. Thanks for the concern, though," Elizabeth assured her with a smile. She glanced back at the street and noticed that the car was gone, along with the mysterious man.

"Marlene, why don't we go back to the apartment building? My allergies are starting to get to me," Elizabeth suggested. Marlene agreed and they started back to the apartment building.

Elizabeth didn't see the car nor the man all the way there.

— § —

There's a difference between being told you'll be watched, feeling like you're being watched, and _knowing_ you're being watched.

Elizabeth wasn't sure of how much more paranoid she could get. She jumped at the sound of doors closing and checked her surroundings like a burglar after a bank heist. Well, Hans was right about one thing. She was smarter than he thought. Elizabeth was about to take a chance. If someone was really following her, she was going to put an end to it.

Elizabeth was now walking down Fifth Avenue on her own. She'd been walking around random blocks for three hours now, looking for a pattern on who might be following her. There was only one thing that remained constant: a man wearing sunglasses, a baseball cap, and jeans was walking several yards behind her for the past hour. Elizabeth gradually slowed her pace and stealthily checked behind herself from the corner of her eye by turning as frequent as possible, either around the block or across the street.

When he was a few yards behind her, she stopped and looked around as if she were lost. When he continued to walk past, she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, do you know where the nearest rest stop is? I need to make a call," she asked innocently.

The man nodded. "Yes, it's two blocks that way," he said, pointing down the street.

Elizabeth smiled and walked around him to where she was just outside an alley. "Thank you, I really need to start charging my—"

Without warning, she pulled his arm behind his back and pushed him into the alley and against the wall.

"Who are you?! Did he send you?!" she hissed into his ear.

"Hey! What's your problem? I don't know what you're talking about!" the man replied, struggling against her grasp.

"That's a lie! He sent you, didn't he?!" she asked again, turning him around and pushing her arm into his collar-bone.

He stared at her blankly and pushed her off before attempting to escape. But he was falling before he'd even realized Elizabeth had tripped him. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground with Elizabeth on top of him.

"Where's Ryan?!" she asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go!" the man gasped.

Elizabeth stared hard into his eyes. She was so sure he was the one following her. Then again, she nearly felt that everyone was following her. With a frustrated sigh, Elizabeth stood up and offered her hand to help him up.

That's when the tables were turned and he pulled her back down to the ground, pinning her.

"Hans was right, you'll believe anything."

"What are you talking about?! Get off me!" Elizabeth ordered.

"Just don't worry about Ryan," the man said softly in her ear. "He's going to be just fine. But only if you do what Hans says."

Elizabeth jerked one of her arms loose and brought her fist into his face. She seized his moment of shock and rolled over on top of him.

"You can tell Hans that if he hurts Ryan, I swear, I'll—"

"He's not going to hurt him! Get off me!" the man exclaimed.

"—I'll kill him!" Elizabeth finished. "And stop following me! I can do what I need to do just fine without one of his _rats_ following my every move."

Elizabeth stood up and stormed out of the alley. The light from the sun caused her head to throb and she touched her temple. When she examined her fingers, there was blood. She assumed she must have hit her head when she fell.

**Apartment 48D - 2017 hours**

Once Elizabeth made it back to her apartment, she went into the bathroom and cleaned her wound and applied a bandage.

After she'd finished, there was a knock at the door. She was surprised to see who was there.

"Skipper? What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," Skipper replied with seemingly no emotion. He didn't look happy. Reluctantly, Elizabeth gestured him inside. He walked past her and she shut the door behind him.

Elizabeth turned to face him and could feel the dagger in her boot pressed against her leg with a burning cool that would slowly drive her crazy. Was she really going to do this now?

Skipper turned around and faced her. It seemed that he wasn't sure where to start. "What happened to your forehead?" he asked finally. He asked the question as if he already knew the answer.

Elizabeth's heart plummeted. "I tripped and hit my head," she lied.

Skipper scoffed and examined the floor as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you make a living out of lying?—because you're really good at it," he asked.

Elizabeth gulped. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me. For your information, I was out earlier. I saw you in that alley. I decided that my decision to stop digging into your past was a mistake. So, I dug deeper. You didn't even _exist_ before eight years ago. Then, I did a facial recognition. Your real name is Amanda Taylor. You left London eight years ago and were never seen nor heard from again. And worse than _that_, you were _married_ to my arch-enemy! I knew you looked familiar," he said, turning away in incredulity, running his hand over his face.

Elizabeth hugged herself tightly as the tension rose inside her. She tried to find the words to say, but found herself speechless.

"So, my question is, why are you really here?" Skipper asked, turning back to her tucking his thumbs in his pockets.

Elizabeth stared blankly at him for a moment as her adrenaline increased with her heart rate. In the next second, her hand found the inside of her boot and she ripped the dagger from its sheath as she flung herself at him.

Skipper was caught completely by surprise, but acted on instinct, catching her in the arm. Elizabeth kneed him in the stomach and he doubled over for a second while releasing her arm. Skipper started to straighten, but Elizabeth turned three-sixty on her heel and brought her foot into his back, sending him stumbling forward. She pulled him back by the scruff of the neck and brought the dagger down hard into his face, but Skipper caught her arm again just before he lost his ear.

"So that's what you're here for?! Hans told you to kill me?!" Skipper deduced.

Without answering, Elizabeth broke away and attempted another roundhouse kick and Skipper grabbed her leg and threw her on her back. The shock of striking the floor sent the dagger flying out of her hand and sliding next to the end table at the far side of the room. She and Skipper looked at the dagger, and then to each other.

"You don't have to do this. I don't know what Hans said to you, but I'm not the enemy here," Skipper tried to reason, extending his hand toward her to help her up. Elizabeth stared at it for a moment as if she'd never seen a hand before in her life. He was offering to help, even after all she'd lied about? She accepted it and regained her footing and made a last second decision to back out, pushing him to the ground

Elizabeth leapt over him and could nearly reach the dagger, but had to crawl just a couple more feet. She tried to pull herself closer, but Skipper grabbed her legs and pulled her back, turned her over, and pinned her down.

"Why are you so determined to kill me?! Am I really worth it?! Is Hans?! What have I ever done to you?! Or do you just love Hans so much that you'd kill an innocent man to satisfy him?!" he yelled.

His accusation took Elizabeth aback, igniting her hatred for what Hans was doing and making it burn more fierce than ever. She spat in his face and bit one of his arms. Skipper cried out in pain and Elizabeth pushed him off. Finally, she pulled herself to the dagger and grabbed it as she got to her feet. After kicking Skipper in the chest to land him on his back, she got on top of him and held up the dagger.

Skipper's life flashed before his eyes.


	8. The Truth

**Apartment 48D - July 20, 2012 - 2029 hours**

Skipper squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for death. It took him a moment to realize he was still alive. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Elizabeth towering over him. The blade of the dagger was just an inch from his throat. He could see the hesitation in her eyes and the whites of her knuckles that said she held a death grip on the dagger, as if her life depended on it. She stared hard into the dagger, as if trying to will it to penetrate its target. But it would not move. Skipper could tell that his first reaction had been wrong. She didn't want to kill him. Yet, it seemed like there was something she was fighting for.

He slowly brought his hand closer to hers and her eyes darted to it, and he halted instinctively. He carefully examined her eyes, which were moist with tears. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. Her grip loosened on the dagger and she let out a choke of defeat as the tears finally started to roll down her cheeks. Skipper finally brought his hand to hers and closed his fingers around the dagger. Elizabeth closed her eyes and allowed him to take it from her. Then she stood up and stepped away, turning her back on him.

Skipper got to his feet and stepped toward her. "Why didn't you do it?" he asked slowly, looking from Elizabeth to the dagger in his hands.

"Because I can't!" Elizabeth choked in shame. "I can't bring myself to kill someone! I can't take that kind of guilt!" she explained without turning back to him.

"Then why did you even consider?"

"Skipper, please just get out of here before I do something I regret," Elizabeth pleaded. He could hear her crying through her voice.

Skipper stepped closer. "Elizabeth, whatever is going on, I can help you. Just tell me what Hans is—"

"Just go! Get out of here!" Elizabeth demanded. She turned around and brushed past him, opening the door and waiting for him to go through it. Skipper sighed sympathetically and walked toward the door. He stopped at the threshold.

"What do I tell Kowalski?" he asked over his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter. He'll be hurt no matter what you tell him. I never meant for any of this to happen. I'll be gone by morning. Please just go," she pleaded weakly.

Skipper turned his head to look at her as a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. She was staring into the room with a far-off look in her eye. Whatever Hans had threatened her with was obviously something extremely important to her. With an understanding nod, he left her.

Elizabeth shut the door behind him, pressed her back against it and slid to the floor. Then she buried her face in her hands and wept.

**Apartment 50D - 2041 hours**

Skipper entered the apartment with his gaze fixed on the floor and his brow lowered in concentration.

"What's wrong, sir? Where did that dagger come from? You seemed awful upset when you left, but I didn't think you were homicidal!" Private asked as Skipper moved through the living area.

"It's a long story, Private. I'll tell you later," Skipper answered. "Where's Kowalski?"

"Depends on your answer about that dagger," Private told him suspiciously.

"Be serious, Private. Where is he?" Skipper asked again with a roll of his eyes.

"In his lab," Private said, pointing to the closed door at the other end of the room.

Skipper nodded and went to the door, took a deep breath, and went inside. "Kowalski, I need to tell you something," he said, getting his attention.

Kowalski stopped what he was doing and lifted his goggles. "Yeah, Skipper?" he acknowledged.

"It's about Elizabeth. She's—not who she says she is," Skipper told him distantly.

"What are you talking about? I thought you came to trust her," Kowalski inquired.

"I did, but—earlier I saw something. And I dug some more into her records—"

"Why did you do that?" Kowalski interrupted.

"—and I found out she didn't exist before eight years ago," Skipper continued.

"What are you talking about, Skipper?" Kowalski asked before he gave him a chance to say anything else.

"Will you please let me finish! I found out that her real name is Amanda Taylor. She fled from London eight years ago for unknown reasons and changed her identity. I wanted answers so I went to her apartment. She—she tried to kill me. But before you say anything, I don't think she's all that dangerous," Skipper explained.

Kowalski shook his head and laughed. "So, you're telling me that before you know all this, you didn't trust her, and then she tries to _kill_ you and you change your mind?!"

"Kowalski!" Skipper slapped him. "Something's going on. She had the chance to kill me and she _didn't_. She's saying she'll be gone by morning. I think Hans has threatened her with something," he said without thinking.

"Hans? What does Hans have to do with Elizabeth?" Kowalski asked.

Skipper broke eye contact and stared at the Bunsen burner next to them on the counter.

"Kowalski, I didn't want to tell you this but," he took a deep breath, "before she fled from Denmark . . . she was married to Hans," Skipper told him before he looked back into his eyes, which were filled with hurt as he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You're telling me she—lied about everything?" Kowalski asked, no longer able to look Skipper in the eye.

"Well, the only things she told the truth about was her status as a nurse and architect. I also really don't think she lied about how she felt about you," he said softly. Kowalski's tensed. "And like I said, I think Hans has threatened her with something. I think we should help her."

Kowalski thought for a moment. "No," he said sternly, his expression hardening.

"What?" Skipper asked in surprise, taking his hand off Kowalski's shoulder.

"I don't think we should trust her anymore, Skipper," Kowalski said.

"Kowalski, I know you're hurt, but—"

"No, Skipper. If she wants to leave, then let her," Kowalski insisted.

Skipper took a deep breath. "All right, Kowalski," he said before he turned and left him to cool off.

— § —

Elizabeth continued to weep silently into her hands.

_What have I done?_ she thought. _He's going to kill Ryan, now. And it's all my fault. He must feel so scared right now. If only he hadn't had one of his men following me, I—_

She picked her head up out of her hands in shock when she recalled what the man had said.

_"__Hans was right, you'll believe anything."_

She sat there for a moment. Why would Hans say something like that? How would he know if Hans wouldn't do anything to her son? Unless . . . Hans said as much. She got to her feet, wiping her palms over her cheeks as she made her way to the trash can by the dresser.

When she found the picture of her son, she plopped on the bed and looked at the photo. Hans wouldn't even let her speak to her son earlier. Was that because he didn't have him anymore? She frantically dropped the photo to the floor and pulled the suitcase from under the bed and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for: a number.

She pulled out her cell and dialed.

_"__This had better be important, Amanda,"_ answered Hans' voice.

"I want to speak to my son," Elizabeth commanded. There was a short silence.

_"__Why?"_

"I want to know that he's okay. If I don't speak to him, there'll be no reason to think that he's all right, therefore no reason to go through with this mission," Elizabeth told him. There was another temporary silence.

_"__You can't."_

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked impatiently.

_"__Because—he's not exactly here, all right?"_ Hans answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_"__He tried to run and—my guard took his life, Amanda,"_ he explained. "_It was an accident. I didn't expect you to call."_

"What?!" Elizabeth screamed in outrage.

_"__Amanda, I—"_

Elizabeth hung up on him and threw her phone across the room. She grabbed her hair and paced back and forth. That was the last straw. Now, she didn't have anything to lose.

She went to her door and threw it open, not bothering to close it as she went to Apartment 50D. When she knocked on the door, Kowalski was the one who answered.

His expression hardened and he grabbed her arm and pulled her in just as the room went dark. After the some struggling, the lights were turned back on and Elizabeth was tied down to a chair.

"Kowalski, I just said not to do that!" Skipper exclaimed.

"Are you _really_ going to trust her?! She tried to kill you! She's dangerous!" Kowalski argued.

"I _don't _trust her! At least, not yet! I just think we should hear _her_ side of the story!" Skipper protested.

"Every word she says is a lie!" Kowalski insisted.

"I admit I lied, but you have to hear me out! Please!" Elizabeth pleaded.

Kowalski stepped toward her choking back tears. "How _could_ you?! I suppose everything we had was just a joke to you?!"

"No, Kowalski! I came here to confess! Please! I want to tell you the truth!" Elizabeth insisted.

"_Truth_? You don't even know the meaning of the word," Kowalski said, staring her coldly in the eye.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. She'd hurt him more than she'd thought she would.

"Kowalski, I know she hurt you, but I am your commanding officer. I say we should hear her side of the story," Skipper demanded.

Kowalski sat on the couch and crossed his arms. "Fine. But I do not have to listen," he said, sitting back and turning his head away.

Skipper turned to Private. "Private, untie her," he ordered.

"No, don't. I feel more comfortable knowing I can't hurt anyone," Elizabeth insisted.

Kowalski scoffed.

"We're listening," Skipper said, ignoring the gesture.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "It'll be easier if I start from the beginning. Eight years ago, Hans and I had been married for three years. One day when he was supposed to be stationed in Denmark, he burst into our apartment saying we needed to disappear. Frightened, I ran away. Later that evening, I discovered that he'd committed murder and broke someone out of prison. I didn't want any part of it, so I changed my identity and fled the country. What Hans didn't know was that I was pregnant."

The team, even Kowalski, looked at her in shock. Elizabeth took a moment to survey their expressions.

"For eight years, I hadn't seen nor heard from Hans. I raised my son without him. Just before I came here is when Hans found me. He said if I didn't kill you, then he'd kill my son," Elizabeth said, looking at Skipper. "He told me to use Kowalski to get to you. When you found me out, I panicked. But as I'd suspected, I wasn't able to bring myself to take an innocent life. After you'd left, I found out that Hans had . . ." Her voice trailed off and her eyes became distant.

"Had what?" Private urged.

"Killed him," she choked. "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt any of you," she said. She turned to Kowalski, who no longer seemed upset with her. "Kowalski, I'm so sorry. Out of every lie I've ever told you, I never lied about how I felt about you. You're an amazing person and you deserve someone who makes you feel as special as you made me feel. You deserve someone better than me."

Kowalski watched as she hung her head in shame. He could see everything she'd had to put up with in so little time. He pulled himself up from the couch and knelt beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"I forgive you," he said softly.

"I don't deserve to be forgiven," Elizabeth insisted, shaking her head.

"Eliz—I mean, Amanda, you've been put through so much in the past few days. None of this is your fault," Kowalski told her.

"But I could have told you what was going on," Amanda said, shrugging his hand off her shoulder.

"Why didn't you?" Kowalski asked.

"Hans had someone watching me," Amanda answered.

"See? It all goes back to Hans. I don't blame you," Kowalski persisted.

She turned to look at him. "But I could have killed—"

Kowalski interrupted her by pressing his lips to hers. The others shifted in their positions awkwardly. With the exception of Private, who watched in awe.

Kowalski pulled away and held her face in his hands. "You are _not_ to blame."

Amanda remained silent as Kowalski untied her and Skipper knelt in front of her.

"How do you know he killed your son?" he asked curiously.

"It doesn't matter. It's over. I don't want to talk about it," Amanda said, cringing.

"Just tell me," Skipper urged.

Amanda sighed. "I remembered something that guy you saw me fighting said. It made me suspicious that Hans may not even have my son. So, I called him. That's when he told me," she explained.

"Please, I know Hans. He may be a heartless fiend, but he wouldn't kill his own son," Skipper said with a shake of his head.

"He said his guard did it by accident," Amanda argued.

"I still don't believe him," Skipper insisted.

"But why would he lie to me?" Amanda inquired.

"Because he knew you'd come to us, we'd agree to help you, you'd take us to him, he could kill me. He's smarter than he looks," Skipper answered with an amused smile.

"What are we going to do?" Private asked.

A devious smirk crossed over Skipper's lips. "Don't worry. I have a plan."


	9. A Last Farewell

**July 21, 2012 - 0702 hours**

"There it is, right up that road. Are you sure this is going to work?" Amanda asked.

"Absolutely. Hans is going to wish he'd never done this to you. He'll be eating right out of your hand," Skipper answered, fixing the ear com in her ear.

"All right, then. I can't wait."

**10 minutes later**

Amanda approached the door of the small mansion and knocked. A man answered and stared at her in confusion. Her hair was in mats, her clothing was torn and untidy, and there was this look in her eye that could only be described as _'__demented.'_

"Amanda? Is Hans expecting you?" he asked.

"I did the job. Let me in," she ordered.

"Hold on, let me get authorization to—"

Amanda shut him up by whipping out the dagger and gently touching its tip to his throat. "_Here's_ your authorization."

The man gulped and opened the door for her. She stepped in, said, "Much obliged," and then marched forward. The team had hacked into the security footage to Hans' hideout, so all she had to do was follow their directions on where to find Hans. She was going to make him beg for mercy.

She was walking down a long corridor on the second floor when two guards appeared. Pulling out the small dart gun Rico had given her, she put a dart in both, causing them to drop instantly. Amanda smiled wildly as she approached a set of doors at the end of the hallway. She pushed them open.

"I'm busy," Hans said without looking up from the files on his desk.

Amanda stood in the doorway, feet apart, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand, and murder in her eyes. Finally, Hans looked up and closed his file at the sight of her.

"Amanda? How did you get in here?" he asked, rising from his chair.

Amanda stepped in and shut the door behind her, turning the lock. Hans eyed the dagger in her hand and gulped.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Hans stammered, leaning against his desk on the palms of his hands. Amanda raised the dagger and brought it down into the desk forcefully. The blade wedged itself into the finish, right in between Hans' fingers.

Hans jumped back and landed in his chair. Amanda ripped the dagger out of the wood and walked around the desk, leaning into Hans' face. Hans gulped, his eyes wide with fear.

"You _know_ why I'm here," Amanda said sternly.

"Now, Amanda, let's not do anything we'll regret here," Hans said nervously as he traced the edge of his desk for the panic button. Amanda used the flat side of the blade to push his hand away from the desk.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she threatened. She grabbed the arms of the office chair and pushed it to the center of the room. Then she raised the dagger and threw it at him. It wedged itself in the back of the chair, just inches from his head.

"You _killed_ my son," Amanda hissed.

Hans tried to pull the dagger from the chair, but it was wedged into the internal furnished wood and it was no use. Amanda, however, ripped the dagger free in one yank. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him so close his face was just an inch from hers.

"Don't worry, this will only hurt—_a lot_," she spat. She pulled him from the chair by his shirt and pushed him towards the ground, but Hans caught himself and stood upright.

"Now, Amanda, you don't know what you're doing—!"

"I know exactly what I'm doing! How can you live with yourself?! You had your own son killed!" Amanda screamed.

"Amanda, I know how you must be feeling but—"

"You have no idea how I'm feeling right now," Amanda growled.

She stepped closer to him, grabbed the side of his neck and shoved him to the ground. Then she kicked her foot into his chest, landing him on his back, and got on top of him. She gently ran the blade across his cheek in a shaving motion.

"I wonder how you'd look without a face," she said through clenched teeth.

"He's not dead!" Hans screamed in terror.

Amanda laughed. "You fool. You expect me to believe that?"

"It's true! I would have never killed him, anyway! I ordered my guard not to lay a harmful finger on him! I didn't tell you because I assumed you'd bring the team! Please, Amanda! You have to believe me!" Hans pleaded.

"If he's not dead then where is he?!"

"Look, I took him out, all right? I wanted to let him have a little fun. Fun with _me_. But he tricked me and ran away. He knew I was bad news from the start! I don't know where he is! I swear!"

"Why should I believe you?!" Amanda asked, pressing the dagger harder to his cheek, almost enough to break skin.

"Because despite everything I've put you through, I still love you, Amanda!" Hans blurted.

Amanda stared at him with a straight, emotionless face in silence.

"I don't expect you to believe me. But I was never going to hurt our son. He's a beautiful boy and I wish I would have gotten the chance to be a father to him. But I screwed up. You know he has your eyes? I miss seeing your beautiful blue eyes, you know," Hans said softly with a hint of a smile.

Amanda remained silent for but a moment longer. "I guess that's your loss, then," she said finally.

She then stood up, turned around, and left him there. Hans pushed himself into a sitting position and slammed his fist to the floor in defeat.

Amanda met the team outside, where they had taken out a number of guards.

"Amanda, are you all right?" Kowalski asked when she saw the distant look in her eye.

"I'm fine. Let's go find my son," she said, climbing inside the van, not meeting any of their gazes.

"He could be anywhere in New York by now!" Private cried.

"I don't care. I'm not resting until I find him, no matter how long it takes," Amanda said with determination. The team didn't object, as you never get between a mother and her child.

**2039 hours**

It'd been hours, without luck. They'd split into teams: Kowalski and Amanda were searching Manhattan, Skipper and Private searched New York City, and Rico and Marlene scoped out Queens. They'd checked and double-checked every street and alley in those three cities, and either Ryan wasn't in them, or they kept missing each other.

Kowalski and Amanda were now in Central Park.

"Don't worry, Amanda. We'll find him," Kowalski assured her.

Amanda shook her head and sat down on the nearest bench in exhaustion. She put her face in her hands and tried not to cry.

"He could be anywhere! He's probably in an alley somewhere digging in a dumpster for food, all cold and alone and scared. He could have been kidnapped or mugged or murdered or ran over, I don't even know!"

Kowalski sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Amanda buried her face into his chest and wept. Kowalski gently stroked her hair to soothe her.

"It's going to be all right, Amanda," he promised.

After a few minutes of silence, Amanda got to her feet with hope burning in the center of her chest as she took notice of Skipper, Rico, Private, and Marlene approaching, but she didn't see her son with them.

"I'm sorry. None of us have had any luck," Skipper said sorrowfully.

"We'll try again tomorrow," Marlene suggested.

"No, I want to keep looking," Amanda insisted.

"Amanda, it's almost nine o'clock at night and you're exhausted. You need to rest," Private argued.

"I don't want to rest until I—"

Amanda looked past them in shock and the others followed her gaze. Amanda pushed through them.

There, about twenty yards away, stood Hans—and Ryan.

Ryan looked up at Hans, as if asking for permission to go. Hans nodded and Ryan—in his dirty clothes, messy hair, and unlaced shoes—raced forward. Amanda ran halfway and fell to her knees with her arms open as Ryan fell into them. Amanda held him tightly as she cradled him.

"Ryan, I'm so glad you're alive! Are you okay? I was so worried!" Amanda cried into his hair.

"I'm fine, Mama! I didn't trust Hans much, just like you said, don't trust strangers. So I got away. Isn't that what you said, Mama?" Ryan asked, pushing back smiling at her.

Amanda laughed and brushed his hair out of his face.

"That's my boy," she said proudly. She looked at Hans over his shoulder. He was watching them from several feet away with his thumbs in his pockets.

"I'll be right back," Amanda said, getting to her feet and walking past him. When she minimized the distance between them she stopped and crossed her arms, silently demanding an explanation.

"My men found him," Hans said softly.

"This still doesn't change anything," Amanda responded.

Hans took a deep breath. "I know. I don't expect it to. I should have never done this. I don't want nor expect forgiveness, but I am sorry," he said.

Amanda hesitated and sighed. "Thank you—for finding him," she said finally.

Hans nodded and looked past her at Ryan. "He's a good boy. You've done well," he paused, "It is my loss, Amanda."

Amanda didn't respond and he looked down.

"Goodbye, Amanda."

"Bye, Hans," Amanda replied quietly.

With that, Hans turned and left without another word and without looking back.

**Apartment 50D Terrace - July 22, 2012 - 0937 hours**

Kowalski leaned against the railing. "Why do you have to leave?" he asked.

"Because, Kowalski, you need your team more than you need me. I also have Ryan to think about. I really care about you, Kowalski, I do. But I hope you understand that I care about my son more. I think the good you do for people is great, but you have enemies, Kowalski. I don't want my son a target. If it were just me, it'd be different. I hope you know that," Amanda replied, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Where will you go?" Kowalski asked.

"Probably back to NYC. Ryan's friends are there. And so is my career," Amanda answered. Kowalski took her hand.

"You don't have to do this," he said with pleading eyes.

"But I do. I'm sorry, Kowalski. I'll be around," she told him with a smile.

"Will I ever see you again?" Kowalski asked, stepping closer to her.

Amanda sighed. "I don't know. I hope so," she said.

"I suppose there's nothing I can say to get you to change your mind," Kowalski said doubtfully.

"No, afraid not," Amanda answered.

"I'll never forget you, Amanda," Kowalski promised. He rested his hand on her cheek and stared deeply into her eyes. "I could've fallen in love with you," he said softly.

Amanda swallowed the lump in her throat to try to refrain from crying. "And I, you. I wish there was something I could do to show you how grateful I am for everything you've done for me," she told him.

"How 'bout a kiss goodbye?" Kowalski suggested with a sheepish smile.

Amanda smiled back, gently grabbed his collar, and pulled him closer until their lips met. Kowalski firmly grabbed her waist and greedily pulled her close. Amanda didn't resist. After what could have lasted a lifetime, Amanda finally pulled away.

"Goodbye, Kowalski," she whispered softly against his lips.

"Goodbye, Amanda," Kowalski whispered back.

For the sake of trying not to cry, Amanda turned and went inside her apartment. A few minutes later, Kowalski saw her down in the street climbing into a taxi with her son. She looked up and saw him, waving one last goodbye. Kowalski waved back and watched as she drove away.

Skipper appeared at Kowalski's side. "Sorry, amigo," he said.

"'Sokay. I'll see her again one day," Kowalski replied.

Skipper smiled sympathetically and patted his back before he went back inside.

Kowalski crossed his arms and heard a crinkle in his shirt pocket. When he reached in, he pulled out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read the note:

_555-0381 Keep in touch?_

Kowalski smiled and mentally sent her an 'absolutely.' Then he folded the note again and stuck it back in his pocket.

— § —

"So, who were those men, Mama?" Ryan asked.

Amanda smiled. "They're friends, Ryan. Really good friends."


End file.
